Coming Home
by ChampagneTasteBeerMoney
Summary: AU: Clay wanted to live his own life. Sheri wanted a lot of things. They never expected to want each other and they didn't want to want each other. Still... Trigger Warning: Racial discrimination, hate crimes, the n-word. Other things that I'll probably add later.
1. Prologue

**_Sheri_**

My whole life, I've just been tired. No bullshit, I think I was born yawning. Not out of boredom. I mean, I've definitely been bored as there's not much to do around here. Especially for a black girl.

My grandma's been running, my mother's been running and she held my hand to make my little legs go just as hard as hers. But we can never outrun hate and pain. It's in our history. In our blood. Forever and ever amen. Still, we let the fear take us all the way to Dover, Delaware, for a fresh start. More opportunities and all that. Mama says it'll be better up here, but I don't think she means the people. I think what's going to be better is her ability to forget about what happened to Daddy. She doesn't talk about it, which I understand I guess. I mean, talking about it won't bring him back. There's nothing to do, nothing to say. It's just the way it goes sometimes.

Uncle Schroeder drove us to his boarding house. It's a nice, big, stone red town house. Mama and I would live on the top, Uncle and his family would live on the bottom. Mama got a job working for a family in New Castle. I'm going to school up there, too. Schroeder got me in. He didn't even ask me what I wanted. I wanted to go to the all-black school. I mean, I wouldn't have any friends, probably. No one trusts the way I speak and the things I like but at least I'd just feel different and not look it. I could blend. I could survive. I would take the bus in with my mother in the morning but she doesn't leave the Bakers' home until 5. One day I was sitting, waiting and Bryce Walker and his vultures were lurking. I felt their presence linger and in my head, I was as good as dead.

"Sheri-baby," his voice was so charming, just like the devil he is. "Sitting all alone?" Bryce took the space on the bench beside me, spreading his legs and arms. He wanted to let me know I was in his territory. Little did his simple-behind understand, I knew this every day. I lived this every day.

And then, not soon enough but just in time, you came along.


	2. Nicotine and Flowers

_**Clay**_

I don't know anything. Like I don't know anything _about anything._ It's embarrassing. But when I first saw you...

I lived here, in New Castle, my whole life. I'm an only child so, that made for a pretty lonely existence. I mean, I had my parents obviously. My dad is a professor at Delaware State and my mom is... my mom. Her side of the family owns a chain of convenience stores in the area so, that's all she ever had to be. And she's good at it, being my mom. Both my parents are good parents but... they're my parents. I can't tell them everything, I can't speak to them the way I could speak to you.

Anyway, I never had a lot of friends. The kids that I know, I've known my entire life. They're all the same and even as we got older and taller, they really... just stayed the same. Not that, I think I changed so much but, you know I stopped sniffing paste. Can't say the same for Bryce Walker.

But all this isn't to say that I didn't have friends because I did. I mean, of course, there was Hannah Baker. Hannah Baker: My neighbor, the angel. Or, at least, she definitely looked like one. Her eyes were like these... tiny globes. You could see the ocean and land and the stars in them. She had brown hair and dimples and soft, glowing white skin. But most importantly, she wanted to be my friend. I don't know why, I think it was because I was in her eye-line one day and she waved to me, 5 years old. But she was a girl and Bryce, tough tot that he was, said that I can't be friends with girls and if I was, then I was a sissy - the worst thing in the world. I didn't care though. Because my mother raised me to be nice to those who're nice to us and you know how much I love to be nice.

When grammar school was over, I noticed how Hannah matured, like all the other boys in town. She became the object of all the males in New Castle high's affection and I became a member of the astronomy club but we stayed friends. I think. I thought. I mean, I noticed that she was a lot more... handsy with me. Holding my arm on walks home, touching my hair. Jeff Atkins was the first person to say it to me.

"Someone has a crush." He held a football in his hands, against the bleachers. He was posing without even being aware of it.

When I look down, my glasses fall to the tip of my nose and it's so annoying. But when Jeff said that, my head shot up at him, glasses sliding back on their own because there was just no way that Hannah Baker liked me. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about, Hannah Baker liking you, Clay Jensen."

I shook my head at him and got back to my homework. "You're crazy. A-and you have studying to do!" I tried to dodge but Jeff could always catch me.

He sat next to me, staring at the cheerleaders practice. Some of them said his next all at the same time and smiled at him. I wonder if they rehearsed that like a cheer at a game. And Jeff, Mr. Suave, waved at them with wiggling fingers. Of course, I became accidental friends with the reincarnation of James Dean.

"Why is it crazy? You're not an ugly guy or anything."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"No, look, I mean, she's a beautiful dame and if you ration her, then you'll finally be able to go on double dates with me and Amy." He put his arm around my shoulder.

"You're going steady with-with Amy Cameron?"

"This week." Jeff winked. The guy changed girlfriends so much, it gave me whiplash. I decided not to give my jealousy another grunt and get back to Geometry. Jeff saw me ignoring him like normal and held me even closer to whisper. "Look Clay, I know you like to do your own thing. That's why I like you but, you know... college is only a couple years away. We're becoming men. I mean, shoot, Zach Dempsey just got engaged someone last week!"

"Really? Who?"

Jeff shrugged, "I don't know. Some broad his parents chose. If you don't want the same thing to happen to you, I suggest you shop around before all the good ones are gone."

It's not that I didn't like Hannah. Who didn't like Hannah Baker? Not only was she good-looking but she was clever and kind. She had grace. Even with all of these things, though, it never occurred to me that we might end up together. She was just my friend next door, the person I point out constellations to and I was the one who got to hear all the new records she bought. I'm not an athlete. I don't come from a poor family but I'm not the wealthiest either. I'm not popular, or strong, or particularly talented at anything. Nothing special. Average Clay Jensen. Could she... could she really like me? Could she... be my wife?

* * *

A couple of years ago, it became legal for schools to integrate colored kids with white kids. New Castle was an entirely white area, so I didn't really care about it. It didn't effect me. Even if colored people came to the school, I didn't think I would care. I mean, I'd be respectful and all, not bothersome and furthermore, I didn't think anyone else would be. Not a lot of people carried that type of attitude around here and even if they did, they didn't act on it. We have colored people who work in our stores and homes... I mean, our house didn't have any colored help or help at all. My mom did all that stuff. The Bakers' had help though. In fact, Hannah's maid past away recently. Tara. She helped raised her and was sweeter than honey. It was really sad but they hired someone new. Your mom. And that was the first time I saw you.

You were leaning against the fence, in this green dress. Your hair was in this short cut. You were smoking a cigarette. I think it was the first time I've ever seen anyone smoke in real life. I knew I was staring but I couldn't help it. You were different and black and I knew I wanted to be around you. I don't know if it was because of those things but... I don't think so. Or maybe I'm being naive. I think I... just thought you were so alluring. You caught me staring at you from my porch but I didn't stop. I think it was one of the bravest things I've ever done. Just looking at you. You scowled at me and you were right to. Staring is rude. Especially when you're staring in silence, like I was but I didn't know what to say. What could I say to this girl that wouldn't scare her, offend her... make her hate me?

You heard the Bakers' front door open and shuffled to look as perfect as you already are. The cigarette dropped from your hands and you stomped it out. Your hands smoothed down the edges of your dress and hair. Then, you discreetly smelled yourself and took out a tiny bottle of Chanel perfume. I could tell because my mother had the same tiny bottle. She only wore it for special occasions. Your mother came out and met you. You both walked together in the direction of the bus stop. As soon as you left, I put myself in the space you were in. I stood in Hannah's gate, smelling the nicotine and flowers, wondering if I'd see you again and what I'd say. If I'd say anything.

"Clay." Hannah called me from her door.

I'm not sure what kind of smile I wore for her but it felt real, "Hi, Hannah."


	3. Bold

**Sheri**

Like I said, there isn't much for me to do but be afraid, most times. But soon that gets pretty boring in itself, so I needed to bide my time. I turned to books. They were free and while the library in my neighborhood didn't have the widest selection, it was good enough. I mean, didn't have much of a choice. I'm from Alabama. I went to a smaller school, on the far, far outskirts of town. My dad worked and my mom worked too, but she was the one who walked me every day, round trip. The teachers tried their best, the kids who actually attended and didn't have to make money just tried to have fun. Not me, though. I did my work and answered questions, so I bet you can guess what that made me. Teacher's Pet. Or worse, the girl who thinks she's better than us. The girl who think she's white. So, no friends for me. Pretty much ever.

I was so lonely and I know my mom was too, even when Daddy was still alive. Sometimes, I'd cry about it. I didn't cry about being killed or having to walk miles for my education or sometimes, not having dinner because it wasn't safe enough to go out. I cried about not having friends, or anyone to talk to. How silly.

Naturally, then, I wanted to go to another all-black school when we got to Dover. At least I had the chance of making friends there. Friends that I didn't have to censor myself around, friends that could understand me and my life. I knew that uncle Schroeder meant well, setting me up at New Castle but I didn't want to go there. The night before my first day at school, I told him this.

He held his hands out to me, trying to reach, "Sherilyn, I did this for your future. You're too smart to go to Dover high school. You know that. I thought you wanted to go to college?"

"I do and if you think I'm so smart, then you should be able to think that I can get into college from anywhere, right?" I reasoned. My mother sat in the easy chair, saying nothing. It makes sense. This is the type of conversation I would've had with Daddy. Daddy was the one who encouraged my reading. Uncle Schroeder and him were really good friends. I think that's part of the reason we moved down here, because he reminded her so much of him.

"You know what happens to the ones who go to Liberty? They graduate and end right back up on the streets of Dover. At New Castle, you have better resources, more opportunity. Why would you want to waste that?"

I choked on my words because he was right but, it wasn't enough. "At this white school, what if something happens to me? What if - they don't like me and I get hurt because of it? At least when they didn't like me at Billingsley, I didn't have to worry for my life! In 1903, George White was lynched in New Castle! He was -"

"STOP IT!" His voice boomed. His dark eyes were bulging at me, like he might strike me but he composed himself. His voice was deep and rung around the room. "I don't care about who got killed where. That will not be you, do you understand? That will not be you. You will go to New Castle High School, graduate and go on to do some great things. Because you walk with God."

"I do? Well, where was God when - "

"One more word, Sherilyn." Schroeder raised a finger to me. "Just one."

I've been hit before but never by uncle Schroeder. He was a big stalk of a man, taller than six feet. His hands looked like they could knead my grandmother's thickest dough and pull a ship by a rope. He would have no trouble smacking my mouth shut. I gave in.

* * *

My mother chose my outfit. It was a white day dress. She wanted me to look as pure and innocent as possible. It was like she wanted my outfit to say, 'Hello, I am wearing white. I am just like you.' It doesn't work that way. She packed my lunch, turkey sandwich and thermos of soup. When we left, at 5 AM, Schroeder was already at work but I got to kiss my baby cousins goodbye in their sleep. The bus ride was almost two hours. I was reading a book on Greek Mythology and my mother was knitting a sweater next to me. We got off the bus and she gave me a soft hug. She pushed back a strand of my newly permed hair and told me she loved me. I loved her too, then we went our separate ways.

From the New Castle bus stop, the walk to school was 10 minutes. I'd pass a park and the post office. The high school was humongous and looked brand new. It probably wasn't a big deal to you, because your neighborhood was identical to this building but, I felt like I was going into a church. As far as I could tell, I was the only black girl at the school. Standing on the campus steps, people literally stopped and stared at me. Kind of like you did but it felt ominous. I held my breath and kept moving up the stairs. I went to the office and registered myself as a student of New Castle High School.

The secretary said to me, "we have two other colored kids, too." She was smiling in a snarky way, like I should be thanking her. I walked to Mrs. Latimer's homeroom. I got more looks from kids. Some of them rolled their eyes at me. Oh man, another one. When I stood in front of the wooden door, I read the number 235 at least ten times. To go in or not to go in. To grow or not to grow. To die or not to die. It didn't matter, I concluded. I'm gonna die anyway. No matter what.

I took a very deep breath and opened the door. Mrs. Latimer immediately became bright when I came into the room, so she was probably expecting me. She grinned very hard, like she was trying to force a ray of positivity and her tolerance into me. It was very uncomfortable.

"Hello, good morning!" She rose from her chair and shook my hand with both of hers. "You must be Sherilyn! I'm Mrs. Latimer! I'll be your 10th grade homeroom teacher!" Her voice was the sounds of harps' strings plucking then breaking apart. Yes, she was definitely expecting me. "It's so good to meet you!"

"You too." I always try to be nice but sometimes my face tells the truth.

"Class!" She forced an arm around my shoulders. "This is Sherilyn Holland -"

"Sheri is fine." I told her. Only my family calls me my full name and this place was certainly not my home.

"Sheri! She is new to our school this year! I want to you all to make sure you show her how kind and respectful and friendly our school is! Let's all welcome her!" She led a very lackluster clap for my presence. I can appreciate that she wanted me to feel accepted but all she did was put an even bigger target on my back. With my head down, I walked to the first empty desk. I felt all the gazing curious eyes stick me like pins. To think, I'd have to do this for the next two years was torture. I already hated this place and it hasn't even been five minutes.

I was going to continue reading the love story on Eros and Psyche until first period but then I heard a 'Psst!' Internally, I held my guts. This could go all right or this could be really awful. I turned in the direction of the sound and it was Hannah Baker. And you were sitting behind her, cowardly looking at her neck and not me. Like if you made yourself small enough, I wouldn't realize you were the same boy gawking at me the day before. Chicken.

"Mrs. Latimer's really friendly, huh?" She had a disarming smile and sarcastic tone. I nodded, apprehensively. "I'm Hannah. Hannah Baker."

"I know. My mother works for you." I informed her. When I was waiting outside for Mams to finish her orientation with the Bakers, I saw a lovely white girl floating past the windows. Mama told me we're the same age and would be going to the same school.

"Celia's your mother? Oh, wow. What a small world." I don't know why she was pretending not to know this information. Mothers love talking about their children, especially when they think they're something wonderful. Also, being one of the only black kids in the school's county probably made for nice gossip. Mrs. Baker more than likely told Hannah that she'd be going to school with me. But, I guess she was just trying to be kind.

"Sure." I replied.

"This rude boy behind me is Clay Jensen." Your eyes peered up at me and you mumbled your greetings. I thought you hated me but I didn't care, much. I was used to being judged.

"Hi." I said back, monotone.

"May I see your schedule?" Hannah asked me. I passed her the pink card with my classes on it and she read them with her pretty eyes. "Well, get a load of this! We have almost all the same classes together! That's something. So, I guess we're going to be best friends."

This was such a set-up. I didn't know how rich or influential the Bakers were in New Castle but this had to be Hannah's mother making moves and asking favors. It was too obvious but I could play along. What choice did I have? We all walked to arithmetic together. Hannah was so close to me, I could count the spots on her face. She had none. You lagged a little behind her, next to her, holding your books and adjusting and re-adjusting your glasses.

Again, I felt the eyes on my back. Suddenly, I heard, "MAMMY!"

I turned around and met the smirking, boyish face. He chuckled, taunting me but I didn't say anything. There was so much I wanted to say, so many clever and cutting words. Then, I thought of Uncle Schroeder and what happened to my father. I was was so overwhelmed by all the things I felt and wanted to do, that I was frozen. I think about this moment a lot.

Finally, Hannah came to my rescue. "Go run and play, Bryce. Such a child." She warmly put her arm around me and we continued walking. "Hey, Sheri," she said. "I just wanted to let you know that, people aren't that bad around here." How would she know? "I mean, there are a few people that might be rude but mostly, everyone is good. I just don't want you to feel alone in this school. I want you to know that me and Clay are your friends and we'll stand by you, OK?"

Friends. White friends. Seemed like an oxymoron.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Hannah was attached at my hip. Even if she was babysitting me at her mother's request, she was still really sweet. I could see why everyone liked her. You tagged along in the background, saying nothing. I thought you hated me. When the last bell rung, I was on my own in history class. I wasn't expecting to see you or Hannah after school, nor did I really want to. I felt like a burden and I didn't want anyone to feel like they had to be nice to me. I didn't want any special treatment or pity. I can be alone. I'm used to it.

I walked to the bus station with no other kids in school. Everyone lived in the community, I guess. However, sitting on the bench, I wondered about the two other colored kids I heard about. Where did they live? How were they making out? Did they have friends? Suddenly, I heard laughter and saw a gang of white boys approaching. I shifted in my seat and took out a book to look busy. Of course, I wouldn't be able to even think straight until they left. It was Bryce Walker. The same boy who called me 'Mammy' and his henchmen, creeping up to... I don't even want to think what.

"Sheri-baby," Bryce sat next to me, spreading himself all over the bench. He wanted me to know I'm in his territory, but you know this part. "Sitting all alone?"

"Yes, I'm waiting for my bus."

"Well, we'd love to keep you company."

"That's not necessary, thank you." I hated that I had to polite in order for him to leave me alone. It didn't even work.

"Oh, come on - " He was about to put his hands on me, not harmfully in the way that most would think, but still violating.

Then, you showed up. My Chicken in shining armor.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Sheri," you said, like you were supposed to be there. "Oh. Hello, Bryce. I was about to walk with Sheri. Are you ready to go?"

My mouth was open, I was just so lost but you knew what you were doing. You were very calm and smooth. It's like you became what you needed to be, for me. I finally answered, "yes." I was going to miss my bus for sure but as long as I got away from Bryce Walker, I didn't care.

We walked together. Your bike made quick ticks, like a haywire room clock. When we were far enough from trouble, I told you, "you didn't have to do that."

You looked at me, puzzled. "Is that how you say 'thank you'?"

"So what if it is?" I was rude and I knew was being rude but, I felt so weak by you saving me. I couldn't help but be angry about it and you were the first person I could give that anger to.

But then, you surprised me again. You smiled with your freckled face and said, "I'll take it."

I made a crooked smile to myself as well, for what I think was the first time that day. Strolling along the tree-lined street, I noticed Hannah wasn't with us. "Where's Hannah?"

"She's on the prom committee. They meet Wednesdays after school."

After you answered my closed question, I let the quiet fill the space between us for a few minutes. I pulled at my fingers and cracked my knuckles like my mother warned me not to because it made my hands like my father's.

Then, you spoke, "so, how do you like our school?"

I shrugged. "It's fine."

"Do you miss your old school?"

"No."

"... do you miss your friends?"

"I didn't have any."

"Oh."

I didn't want to talk about myself anymore. I felt like there was no reason to do it. "So, are you in any clubs?" I tried to be light, changing the subjects.

"Astronomy club and the honor board."

"You like space." Then, your face became so jovial and full of life. You looked up at the orange sky and beamed.

"I love it." Your voice was so honest.

"Why?"

"It's... hard to explain. It's like - I grew up here and I'll probably go to college here because my dad's a philosophy professor at the state school and I have a career lined up for me with my grandfather's business that's also here. I'm destined to get married here, raise a family and die here. I just feel... stuck. Like, my future's already been chosen for me and I had no say in it. Thinking about the galaxy just makes me feel like I can go anywhere and be anyone. Like the world is limitless... but it's not and I can't."

"Well, why not?"

You made a heavy sigh and admitted, "My mother wants me to help run Drake's Convenience and... I mean, why not? My grandparents have a pretty good life. It doesn't seem like the worst thing I could do."

I was feeling a little bold in this moment. I don't know why; I think because you were willing to show yourself to me. You were so vulnerable and it made me want to be too, for you. "Right. I mean, I think the worst thing you could do is run away to the circus and become a clown."

Picking up on my game, you countered, "And marry Dumbo's mother."

"But you would travel the world together, so maybe that wouldn't be so terrible." I offered with a grin.

"Sure, but how would our baby elephants get proper schooling? It's no life for them."

We both laughed. I was enjoying myself. I didn't think that would happen that day, if ever. Damn you, Chicken, for making me less miserable. Soon, I recognized the houses we were around and you did too because one of them was yours.

"Oh, um, I guess we're at my house." You said, matter-of-factly.

"I would guess that too... or you just love to people-watch from stranger's porches." Ooh, I was so bold.

I made you turn pink and snort at the ground. You rubbed the nape of your neck. "I... I'm sorry about the other day. I-I just... didn't know what to say to you."

"Like today?" I didn't even mean to put you on the spot like this. It's like, by magic you made me feel like I could be more confident with you. More of myself.

"Yes." I thought I didn't care if you hated me or not, but learning that you didn't made me feel good.

"But you know what to say to me now?"

"...no." I started to laugh because you were so adorable. Nervous and nice and adorable. You started to laugh too, but not as hard as me.

"Should I write you a script?"

"Please! That'd be wonderful."

Remembering things, after the laughing gas wore off, I got serious and told you, "Look, Clay. You don't have to find words to say to me if you don't want to. We don't have to be friends. I'm used to being alone and I don't want anyone to feel like they need to take care of me. I don't wanna owe anyone anything. I can take care of myself." I swear, I wanted to kick myself after I said this. I wanted to grab all the words and shove them back into my throat. I thought you'd be relieved but instead, you looked like you were trying to figure out what you did wrong.

"I... I'm sure you can. I know you can and I-I don't want anything from you, Sheri. Except to be friends, like Hannah said. That's it, I promise." I felt that you were being naive and I wanted to say so but I held myself back.

"So, you're going to talk around me now?" I made another joke to make up for being a jerk.

 _"Full, clear sentences."_

"I'll take that." Watching the natural light disappear and my skin get darker, I realized how late it was getting. now I'd have to walk back to the bus stop by myself. When I told you, you offered to escort me.

"No, that's OK. You're already home." I said.

"I know. You walked me home, the least I can do is walk you back to the bus stop. It's what a gentleman would do." You quipped, while turning your bike around.

"Clay, you don't have to do that."

"You're welcome."

I giggled. God, I liked you. It was inescapable. Damn you, Chicken.


	4. Chicken

_**Clay**_

When my bike needs a check-up, I don't go to the garages in New Castle. They're overpriced and ran by old coots who think I'm obligated to listen to them mouth off about kids because I'm one. I actually have a car. Well, it's not mine yet. My dad promised that once I get my license, we could take my granddad's 1957 Cadillac and fix er' up. The only problem is that driving makes me awful anxious, as you know. In driving, there is actually a lot going on. I mean, kids running across the street, bad weather, etc. Reactionary driving makes me a wreck but hey, practice makes perfect. Until I perfected my road skills, I'd have my trusted bicycle, Maureen.

Downtown, the bike mechanics are real boss cats. I mean, I think so. I can't understand most of what they say because they speak in Spanish but, they seem all right. They're cooler than me and sometimes they'd play this Mexican music that makes me want to dance. There's one boy in particular that always knows how to treat Maureen. Tony Padilla was wiser than the guys I went to school with and we're the same age. He's seen a lot more than we have. Tony can fix anything: bikes, cars, radios. Guy's a genius. His family owned the place and he helped run it. He didn't have to go to school, which at the time I believed was a pretty far out deal. His black hair was in a jelly roll and he bought this jukebox that only played songs he liked. The only time we'd get to shoot the breeze was whenever we had a business transaction, so I was always stoked to come back when Maureen had a flat because it meant I could talk to him. I rode her over some rocks and leftover snow, on purpose. I desperately needed his advice. About you. But, like hell I was gonna tell him that.

"Hiya, Tone." Maureen limped inside the garage with me. The Four Seasons was playing on his juke and Tony was working on his Mustang, Inez. She was already a lean machine, but as he believed, there was always room for improvement. He looked up from the red hot rod's hood and saw the wounded bike.

His face dropped and he cooed, "Aww, Maureen, mi amor. ¿Qué te ha hecho el chico blanco?"

Though my Spanish is very, very poor, I always knew when Tony was talking about me because I was 'blanco': white boy. "Yeah, I... I ran over a major piece of ice. Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one who needs a new tire." He put Maureen on the her operating table - the stand thing that sit bikes upside down - and began her inspection. I sat on the old, dark blue couch that was older than the both of us but sadly, was never named. I sat up very straight, like I had learned in etiquette class. I took off the mittens my grandma had made me and folded my hands excruciatingly tight.

"So... Tony, can I, uh, ask you a question?"

"You just did." He went over to a pile of wheels to get a new one for Maureen.

"Yeah, I just... yeah." I laughed for no reason. My nerves were all over the place and I needed to hold onto just one.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, just... have you ever, uh... I don't know... dated-dated white girls?"

Tony tore his attention from the patient and looked up at me with amused eyes. "Why are you asking me that?"

"No, I-I don't know. I'm sorry, forget it, I'm sorry."

"Is this about that Hannah girl you're dating?"

I squinted, thinking why does everyone want me to date Hannah? And, "since when did I say I date Hannah?"

Tony shrugged, "I mean... she's the only girl you talk about - "

"Because she's my best friend!" I said that way louder than I wanted to and Tony threw his hands up as a white flag.

"All right, so you're not dating her. Don't have a cow." He put a rag over his shoulder and kept working in silence.

"I never thought about us going steady." I blurted out and Tony gave me a skeptical glare. "I just... I don't know. I didn't think she was interested."

"Clay, tell me something. Has she ever gone out on any dates?"

"... Not that I know of, no."

"Does she any other friends who are boys?"

I shook my head, "no. No, I don't think so."

He huffed, "then, she's interested. She's just waiting for you to ask."

Then, I thought about every encounter that I've ever had with Hannah Baker. From when she first asked me to play to the last time I was at her house for dinner. She always smiled at me, even when I said nothing that would make anyone happy. Just regular, ordinary things, like 'Oh, it's a nice day today.' But she was like this with almost everyone. Wasn't she? But this was beside the point; I wouldn't let myself get confused or, not terribly confused anyway. I was there for you.

"Don't change the subject," I got back on track. "So...?"

Tony pursed his lips while tightening Maureen's new wheel. "Yeah. Sure."

"And...?"

"And what?"

"... have you dated... a lot of them?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. What's a lot?"

After I let the initial shock and shame of my lack of a dating life waft over me because I didn't know the answer to such things, I continued. "OK, so, you date white girls."

"I've dated all types of girls," he paused. "But I will say white is the type that comes knocking on my door the most. They think I'm dangerous. _Peligroso,"_ he purred _._ "So, you can imagine how disappointed they are when I try to show off all of my Superman comics. By the way, thanks for letting me borrow your Iron Man one. I'm almost done with it."

"Take your time. Don't mention it." I had to get up and walk around because my legs did that shaking thing they do when I'm nervous. "So," I got closer to Tony. "When you take these girls on dates, where-where do you go?" Because I couldn't shake my leg, I played with my glasses. "Like, were-were you - harassed or-?"

"No, because they weren't exactly wanting to go on a proper date. You know, shakes and a movie. They wanted to be in the neighborhood. See all the _cholos_ and 'bad things' because it makes them feel hip. They think it's a gas. But you know, we're no better. Us coloreds. I mean, my brothers'll go with negro girls because they say that their like 'animals'."

"Animals? Why would you want to date an animal?"

"Clay, no, like..." Tony made an uncomfortable chuckle. "Like, when they - score."

"Oh. _Ohhhh_."

"Yeah."

Folding my arms, trying to be nonchalant, I asked him, "So... like, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

Of course, Tony wasn't gonna make this easy but then again, I didn't deserve it. "Are they like... animals?" _I'm sorry._

Tony looked disappointed at me, like I just failed his test. "What do you think?"

I lifted my arms haplessly, "I don't know! That's why I'm asking you."

"Why _are_ you asking me, though? Do you want to date a colored girl?"

"What? I-I-I - what are you even talking about? I was just curious, OK?" I stuttered.

Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then, he turned Maureen upright. He sighed, "they're not 'like animals.' They're like humans. Like me, like you." He walked Maureen over to me, "good as new."

"Thanks." I muttered and nodded. "So, I-I'll see you next time?"

Tony nodded back, "same boneyard." We did our handshake and I was about to ride off with Maureen until Tony called after me. "Hey, Clay?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't date a colored girl. It won't work out." Remember how I said I could dodge Jeff and he'd catch me? Well, Tony was always at least two steps ahead.

* * *

The next week, I was walking in the hallway with you and Hannah. Hannah was safely in between us. You and I were talking more but nowhere near as much as I wanted to. At this point, I knew I wanted to be your friend but also, secretly, I thought about how I could get you alone, like the day I walked you home. How could I get you all to myself? But even if I could figure that out, it's not like I'd do anything useful with that time. I was too scared to get close. Too in my head. Too worried about how to get you to like me as much as I liked you.

Hannah was easy and familiar. Sort of like the sister I never had. Or, I guess I should say step-sister.

When other guys gave her attention, I wasn't jealous. More so, protective.

"Hannah Baker!" Up came Justin Foley. Very handsome, very masculine and very dimwitted. Still, he was nice... whenever Bryce wasn't around. He gave a toothy smile. "Will you marry me?"

Hannah made a giggle and glanced away from him. "Not today, Mr. Foley."

"Well, how about a movie?"

She sucked in her lips and shook her head, letting her brown curls swing. "No, I'm afraid not."

He snapped his fingers, "I guess I'll have to try again tomorrow."

"I suppose." Hannah giggled as the boy in the Letterman jacket watched us walk to our lockers.

"That has to be the 82nd time Justin Foley asked you on a date this year." I stated. This was a fact, actually. I had been counting.

You leaned against the lockers, looking at Hannah."He's persistent. Gotta give him that."

"He's persistent and pretty, but not much else." Hannah declared, opening her locker.

"I don't get it, Han. You could have any guy at this school, but you never go on dates."

"Has it occurred to you that maybe I don't want just _any guy_? Maybe I'm waiting for someone special."

"Who, Rock Hudson?"

"No, he lost his chance after he stopped answering my calls for Doris Day." I understood that Hannah was making a joke but what made me smile was how you giggled. It was light, like the whistle of a nightingale. "Look Clay, if you're trying to play matchmaker, it's useless. Besides," she stepped closer to me and slicked back my hair. "I've already had my eye on someone. See you tomorrow, Sheri. Bye, Clay."

"Bye, Hannah." You said and she walked into the Student Government meeting. And suddenly, it was you and me. We were walking out of school together and my mind was racing. I could've talked about anything but that was the problem. There are endless ways this conversation could go bad.

But, you were quick and to the point. "She's talking about you, you know."

I stopped while we were walking down the steps of the building. "Who's talking about me?"

"Hannah, Clay. She wants you to ask her out. It's so obvious."

I sharply sighed, gripping the arms of my backpack. "Everyone is saying that - "

"Because it's true." You smiled.

"How do you know?"

'Because I'm a girl. We have our own lingo."

"Don't I know it." I deadpanned. "Look Sheri, Hannah's my best friend - "

"And what better way to start a romance?"

You were watching me unlock my bike and I fumbled, still looking down and letting the tip of my glasses sit on my nose the way I hated. All so you couldn't see my eyes when I asked you, "So... you only date boys you know? As like - friends?"

"Oh, yes. A stranger walking up to me and asking me to the movies would be nuts. Even if he was a hunk, I couldn't be comfortable. I think I'd like to be like my folks. They met at church, became friends, then got married."

"You didn't say anything about love." I noted. You just shrugged and pouted your lips.

"I'm sure they loved each other, too."

"Well, my parents met at college and apparently... so my dad said when he first saw my mother, it was like gravity pulled him to her. She was the sun and he was the earth. They decided they couldn't live without each other. Spooky stuff."

"It _is_ spooky but really sweet." You swooned. "You don't think you feel that way about Hannah?" I looked away bashful and probably blushing because, it's my lot in life to be constantly embarrassed. Then, you asked, "have you felt that way about - anyone?"

"... I don't know." I said, after a bit. That wasn't true. I did know but I just wasn't sure of my own feelings because I've never had them before. Not for an actual person, in my life. I mean, my first crush was Natalie Wood. I'd never look into her eyes and tell her how wonderful I thought she was and how I saw _Rebel Without a Cause_ three times for her. She's not real. She's a fantasy. I had no real experience with relationships, so I only had my parents to go off of. The feelings my dad had for mom I wanted to have for someone eventually but it's never happened. Until you.

But, you know me. I'm a chicken. I couldn't take that chance. Not yet.

"Hm." You investigated me, with your bright green eyes and I felt like I was in nothing but my under-shorts.

"What?"

"I think you do know."

"You-you do?"

"Yeah. I just think your..." And here it is, my dear. The birth of my new name. "Chicken."

"What did you just call me?" I smirked. Then, you raised your pretty elbows and opened your pretty mouth to bock at me. I laughed at you, even though I was the one being made fun of. I didn't mind, if it made you happy.

When you turned back into Sheri, you touched my shoulder. There was a least three layers of clothing between my skin and yours, but the electricity still made me feel crazy in the best way. "Make your move. Or be a chicken the rest of your life. Your call." Then, your bus pulled up. "See you tomorrow. Chicken." I watched you get onto the long, white bus and walk all the way to the back. I was staring at you, again, when you sat near the icy-fogged glass. You felt it, because as soon as the bus started to move, you put a white loose-leaf paper on the window with a crude drawing of the bird.

I grinned to myself, all the way home. This was the moment I understood that Hannah wasn't the one that I wanted to date. It was you.


	5. Everyone Does

There was the day I found a noose on my locker but other than that, things were going pretty OK at New Castle.

The rope was thick, not some makeshift string. This was a planned "prank". Honestly, it didn't even bother me the way it should have. I wasn't scared, I was just reminded. Maybe I was so used to seeing them, from home. Maybe I was waiting for one of my own and it was finally gifted to me. I was just gazing at it, thinking and the people around me were staring at me. Suddenly, I heard someone's gasp catch in their throat and I felt a soft arm pulling me in. It was Hannah. She rushed me away, saying, "come on, Sheri."

If Hannah was there, I knew you couldn't be too far away but I looked back and I couldn't place you in the crowd.

We went to the Principal's office. Hannah stormed in, taking me with her. I never thought someone as pristine as Hannah Baker could make such a scene but she waved her arms and shouted her words. All for me. The principal kept telling her to get a hold of herself but each time he did, she just got louder until she dragged me back out of the office.

We were heading towards the double doors with sunlight peering out when I asked, "Hannah, where are we going?"

She looked back at me with a devious smile, "what's it look like? We're blowing this Popsicle stand."

I turned around, behind me and looked at what was only a spatter of students now. Still no you. I wanted to ask if you could come but I didn't. I know you realized this but I'm a bit of a chicken, too.

We were walking together in broad daylight, on the same sidewalk. I don't know why it felt so different, dangerous even. I've walked with you before and I didn't feel antsy at all.

"You wanna get a soda before we go to my house? Ooh! We could see the new Elvis film! I heard it's a gas!" She held my arm.

"Mm, I'm not much for Elvis." I said. James Brown is infinitely better and I won't hear anything in disagreement with that.

"What?! But he's such a dream!"

I shrugged, "not my dream, I guess."

"OK, well, I wanna do whatever you wanna do." It felt odd that she wanted to make what should've been a tragic and traumatizing event into a celebration for me. I guess she didn't know how else to react. "Ooh! We just got the new Beatles record! We could pick up some shakes and listen at my house." I was a Beach Boys fan. I was about to give in until I happily remembered my mother, probably preparing meals for the Baker household.

"Wait... my mother. She's at your house right now."

When Hannah's full face began to deflate, I was secretly relieved. "Oh, shoot! That's right." She stopped and bit her lip, pensive about other things we could do. Truthfully, I just wanted to go back to school. "We... can go to the park?" Hannah nodded in the direction of Thompson Park, at least 20 paces away. "C'mon." She stepped backwards, still staring at me with her wide, kind eyes. "C'mon!" She laughed, running to the swing set. I followed eagerly, because she finally found one of my weak spots: I love the swings. Watching my feet kick the sky, I often imagined myself growing wings and projecting into the air. When I came back down to earth, I was just idly rocking back and forth, looking at the brown mulch. Hannah was next to me, gripping the chains.

"Hey, got a cigarette?" She asked. I was stunned that she could even know about my dirty habit and she read that on my face. She continued, "I saw you outside that one day. When your mother first starting working for us." I looked away, feeling shameful. "It's alright. I smoke in my room, sometimes. Don't tell my mother. Don't tell Clay, either. Oh, goodness, especially not Clay."

My hands rummaged through my backpack, looking for my emergency cigarettes. I handed her one and lit it for her without being asked. Smoking was made for people like Hannah Baker. She looked so perfect and classy doing something utterly disgusting, as you would say. She blew smoke through her pink lips, "you know, once he insisted that I go to the hospital after tripping on the sidewalk."

I chuckled. "Really?"

"Mm-hm. I didn't have a scrape, but a kid in the neighborhood just got into a car accident. He was walking at night and a drunk driver jumped the curb and hit him. They said if the paramedics were called a little bit sooner, he could have lived. So, naturally, Clay panics and thinks I have an aneurysm. He said he read that the slightest bump and can sometimes make all the difference and my brain could be bleeding as we know it. And it didn't help that it was the kid's leading cause of death."

I laughed because even we didn't know each other that well yet, it sounded just like you. She looked over at the old seesaw, shaped like a tortoise. "We know each other like the backs of our hands. It drives me crazy sometimes, that he can't see..." Hannah passed over the cigarette without looking at me.

"That you love him." I finished for her. Suddenly, I saw one stray tear fall from her face. She even cried pretty. To lighten the mood, I said, "you make it so obvious."

She smiled, wiping her face. "Don't I? He's so frustratingly oblivious. I feel like I could grow a beard and he still wouldn't see me."

"Oh, he'd see you. The most beautiful bearded lady in Delaware? He'd for sure see you."

"Just in Delaware?"

I casually shrug. "I've only been to Alabama and here." She hummed a low laugh and I gave her the cigarette that was now an inch. "I'm sure he loves you too, Hannah."

Clouds of smoke floated into her clear, blue eyes. "How do you know?"

"... everyone does."

She never asked me if I was alright about finding the noose on my locker or how I was feeling about it, which was fine with me. I didn't want to talk about it, anyways.


End file.
